All your other wares you pushed my way. I refused them. There were things drew praise on every shelf, Obvious merits valued by yourself, Showy things that caused the crowd to stay. I could not have used them. Yet I stayed. I might have made a slip. Private virtues, Cold, secreted hoards of them, my glance Pierced to, by a most unhappy chance, While you stared and bit your nether lip -- That grimace the hurt use. Hoarding these you sinned in subtler ways Of secret worship: "Man but steals my worth at God's replevin. These will gain me great applause in Heaven. I am sure of the Almighty's praise For my connoisseurship!" Nothing -- nothing! Yet I searched. I must Not leave embittered. Then, 'neath humbug, glazed self-satisfaction, Littered gauds of cant, I found retraction Of my verdict. Down among the dust Something surely glittered! @3One lone hour of agony@1, overlaid By this clutter Of the thoughts and acts your world acclaims! One experience; hosts of futile aims; Once that dead heart beat -- your soul was weighed With the words none utter! Men are right to hide such things, and deep -- Battling lonely. Ah, but friend, my friend, -- this gloating stealth, This rich air o'er what you call your wealth! Still so gulled by things so barren, cheap, Profitable only? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GASCOIGNE'S GOOD MORROW by GEORGE GASCOIGNE THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 42. FAREWELL TO JULIET (4) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TIME'S PENDULUM by GRACE O. BOLSTAD SONG BY JULIUS ANGORA by EMILY JANE BRONTE |